


Hers

by aslytherspuff



Series: The Wolf Within [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Hermione Granger, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dom/sub, Dominance, F/F, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Mates, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Submission, Omega Verse, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Praise Kink, Submission, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 21:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19912222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslytherspuff/pseuds/aslytherspuff
Summary: Ginny's POV as she embraces the truth about herself.Soft, sweet, sensual fluff.** Part 3 of The Wolf Within but can stand alone **





	Hers

“Hi, little wolf.”

Her voice washes over me, surrounding me in a peaceful warmth.

I hear her footsteps on the floorboards as she approaches me slowly, and I feel myself start to relax. Everything feels hazy, slow, like warm treacle. My eyes have fallen closed, and I can't find the will nor the impetus to reopen them. 

A soft hand trails across my cheek. My muscles give, collapsing heavily into the touch. I can see her face behind my eyelids: warm eyes, soft smile. Her hand traces across my jaw, behind my ear, to the back of my neck. My chin falls to my chest and I sink lower on my knees, my backside resting against the smooth wood instead of on my heels.

“Good girl.”

I sink lower, relax further, submit myself to her completely.

“That's my girl.”

The room feels warmer, the treacle thicker, and I am left with no coherent thoughts at all. I am hers.

A gentle tap on my shoulder guides me to stand. My chin remains lowered to my chest and my eyes closed. I do not need to think or see. I need only to follow.

Her hand on my neck guides me away from the front door where I had been waiting for her. Down the hallway. I melt under the gentle, unyeilding pressure of her hand, drawing me down still further into the fuzzy, inviting warmth of submission.

When we reach our destination, she signals me to kneel. I sink down immediately, pressing my right cheek to her thigh. She pets my hair and my heart soars.

I feel the cool tile beneath my knees and distantly recognise the hiss of water. I lean into her leg, grateful for her strength, as she runs damp fingers over my lips. I drift into a peaceful haze under her gentle affections as she tightens my collar and plaits my hair.

Owned. Owned. Owned, my heart seems to sing.

I am roused slightly by her command to rise, and I realise my legs have fallen numb, so long have I been kneeling on the tiled floor.

Hermione's arms wrap gently under mine, lifting me.

“That's it. Good girl.” Her lips brush my temple, and I shiver.

I fight against the numbness to remain upright. I am a good girl. I have pleased her.

With her hands on my neck and hip, she coaxes me into the hot water of the bathtub, guiding me to lay back amongst the bubbles.

“That's a girl,” she murmurs, and I'm drifting again.

She brushes a damp cloth over every inch of my oversensitive skin, soothing my soft whimpers with gentle admonitions.

“Hush, pet.”

“Now, now, darling.”

“Settle, little wolf.”

And I do. I allow myself to melt. To relax fully into the sensations without desire or expectation. To obey.

My cheek rests heavily on the cool porcelain of the tub, my chin barely above the bubble-topped bathwater. Hermione's firm hand on my collar keeps my head from slipping beneath the water, but encourages my mind to slip quickly and deeply into submission. It's a heady feeling. One that fills me with a bone-deep warmth. I am safe. I am loved.

I do not notice when Hermione ceases her ministrations, but suddenly I am being pulled up, up, out of the warm comfort of the water and into the warm comfort of a soft towel.

This, too, she rubs slowly over every inch of me, but I do not need reminding, and her voice praises me softly. I make her proud. I am good. I am worthy.

She gathers me into her arms. One hand remains on my neck, tucking my head into her shoulder. The other curves under my bum, patting it soothingly as each step rocks me gently in her arms.

She lays me down on the soft cotton of our bedsheets, pulling the covers around us and tucking me against the pillow of her breast. Her lips press against my forehead, and I can feel her smile.

“Sleep, now, little wolf,” she adjures.

The last thing I feel is her soft fingertips, still pressed against my neck. The ultimate gesture of ownership giving me the ultimate feeling of security. I am hers.


End file.
